


Shake My Little Soul For You

by Castelau



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 18:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16707715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castelau/pseuds/Castelau
Summary: Canon divergent as of The Black PaladinsKeith sees the entirety his fight with Shiro coming and prepares against the inevitability of death, whilst in the quantum abyss. Is there any avoiding what you know is coming, or should that knowledge be used to turn the course of the future? If you are a tragic character in somebody else's drama, is there any point fighting your destiny?





	Shake My Little Soul For You

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Thangstgiving. I love you, you freaky bastards.
> 
>  
> 
> Not beta-read and written whilst consuming a frankly appalling amount of wine, you have been warned.

  
The first time was the worst.  
  
_Shiro threw himself at him with a left-handed hook. He parried. A hot blade sliced up through his throat, straight through his jaw and the world fell into darkness and the coppery taste of blood._  
  
Keith came back to reality with a gasp, hands dug into the cold, hard dirt. No. That couldn’t be the future. It couldn’t. He wouldn’t let it… He’d… He’d feint, rather than parry, and then he’d survive that devastating blow.  
Shiro could never kill him, he didn’t believe he had it in him, not after all that they had been through and every time he had made it so clear that he was there for him.  
  
Shiro had never intentionally hurt him. There was no way he’d kill him. They had never put words to what they had, nor a single definitive action but Keith knew in his heart of hearts that there was something deep and inescapably precious between them. A _thing_ made of fleeting touches, of the softening of Shiro’s dark eyes and the way he could draw every bit of tension out of Keith’s body, mind and soul with a single word.  
What they had was unbreakable, sacred in a way he could not even form ideas about.  
  
_“You’re not going ANYWHERE!”_  
  
The second time wasn’t much better than the first for tearing Keith’s heart right open.  
  
_Shiro threw himself at him with a left-handed hook. He sidestepped and raised his blade to catch that energy weapon as it came for his throat. The… beast that Shiro was snarled, foot slamming into his knee and blinding pain shot through, radiating as bones crunched. Keith screamed, legs buckling and the weapon slid from his own blade and with a whirl ran through his chest in an agonising, breathtaking movement that ripped the light from his eyes._  
  
That one came late in the night, leaving him shaking and boneless as he soaked in his own sweat. His new pet whined deeply against his chest, sensing his distress even if the scrap of blue-black fluff could have no concept of just what was rattling his caregiver.  
Bit by bit it was dawning on Keith that these weren’t simply nightmares. No, there was something more disturbing and real about them than even his worst lucid dream. This was a vision of what was to come.  
  
Well, if he transferred his weight to his other leg as Shiro kicked him, he could get away from that blow…  
  
_Shiro threw himself at him with a left-handed hook. He sidestepped and raised his blade to catch that energy weapon as it came for his throat. The… beast that Shiro was snarled, foot slamming into his knee just as Keith shifted his weight. It hurt, but he was able to step back away from him._  
_Again they clashed then, weapon against weapon. The other had the upper hand in terms of strength, but he was always going to be more nimble, lean and flexible against the brute force that was being thrown at him._  
  
_The blades slid apart and they circled for a second before parrying once more. This time Shiro leant in, left hand slamming up into his chin and stunning him as his helmet flew off, over the railing and landed on a platform below. Keith reeled, spots in his eyes and stumbled away._  
_That was a mistake. The monster landed on his back and he felt that white-hot blade slide downwards next to his shoulder-blade, facing inwards._  
  
He was lucky that he was alone when that one faded. Deep in the forest and blessedly alone, he landed on his knees and vomited up his meagre breakfast.  
  
One thing was certain. He was in control of each further action, each mistake and subsequent death allowing him to puzzle further into how to win the fight.  
  
He saw a thousand worlds where he lost.  
  
Thankfully the visions were kept within his own mind. There were some things Krolia did not need to know.

 

It felt like a classic tragedy, the hero marching ever onwards towards their fate no matter how hard they struggled against it. Keith really hated the colour purple after two years.

  
Dying a hundred times over took its toll. At first, he withdrew into himself and tried to remain wrapped up in his bubble, counting the time until the next flash brought him back to fighting his best friend, clutching a new piece of the solution in hand each time.  
What he learnt rapidly was that there was a reason Shiro had been the champion. Each new dodge he worked out just prolonged the battle one second longer. Shiro _always_ won in the end.  
  
——  
  
One night, as Keith was curled into his own personal world of misery and inevitable death, Krolia rose from her spot on the other side of the fire and tossed his knife at his feet before pulling free one of the makeshift blades that they had made from the hard carapaces of the gigantic, crab-like animals that lived in this impossible world. “Fight.”  
  
If Shiro had taught Keith to channel his strength through human patience, Krolia taught him to funnel it instead through Galra savagery. Patience yields focus, but in this fight it was victory or death.  
  
He bled daily. Their sparring was unforgiving, relentless and most certainly did not end at a solid hit, or even at first blood. That first night, he ‘died’ twelve times before his blade tasted blood.  
  
He learnt to use what he had to an advantage. Not just his size, but the way his blood sang louder with every bruise, the clarity of mind that came from being cut and the blinding speed with which he could move when adrenaline burned through his heart.  
  
He won whilst awake for the first time after eighty one days of dying in this time as well as the future.  
  
Shiro’s blood spattered over him for the very first time on exactly the two-hundredth and second day.  
  
It drove him harder than ever.  
  
He saw a thousand worlds where he lost, where the blade cut through his throat, split flesh from bone and the soul from his heart - but worse than that he saw a thousand more where he won and his hands dripped with the blood of the man he loved.  
  
He kept fighting in search of the solution wherein they both survived. There had to be a better way. Voltron had taught him that there was always a better way.  


In that time, his body changed subtly all as his soul scarred into something stronger. When he caught sight of himself in a puddle, on the edge of a knife, he barely recognised the man who stared back at him.   
He was taller, features elongating whilst his flesh filled out the narrow frame of his shoulders and the fire in his heart became something he could fan into a wildfire at will and then choke back to a flicker with nothing more than his own willpower. Perhaps he’d been away from humans for too long but he saw the Galra in his mind and body, he accepted it. He welcomed it with open arms and let it be what defined him.  
  
Accepting what he was led to Keith realising how exactly he could define his relationship with Shiro.  
He was his soulmate. He was his key to strength and his ultimate weakness all wrapped up in a stunning package. For the longest time, Shiro had been his protector, until Keith had had to step into that role and return the favour _as many times as it took_. He’d stood behind him and stood in front of him and they had bitterly defended one another against all that this awful, _fucked up_ reality threw at them.  
Now they would have to stand face to face and fight. What they had learned in pursuit of each other now would be used against them, used to kill them.  
  
On the eight hundredth day exactly, they passed through the abyss. They discovered Alteans, they heard what Lotor had planned and Keith could not have cared less for any of it apart from the fact that he was free of the visions.  
  
He had no need of them anymore, he knew where he was headed.

  
——

  
The return to the castle was a blur, no time for higher thought beyond rushing back to do whatever they could to thwart _whatever_ that mad prince intended. He pushed the aged craft faster and harder than any ship had ever been pushed.  
The red on every screen, the way it rattled and howled as its engine threatened to tear the very thing apart barely registered. His companions paid it no heed either.  
  
All went so well then, the moment his feet touched the hangar base and his world revolved back to Shiro. If there had ever been a doubt that they were soulmates in his darkest thoughts, the fact that his universe narrowed in on the other man and his heart beat in time with his cut it down.  
  
Then everything went to hell in a traditionally _voltron_ style. Lotor was on the floor, they had defeated him, not a thing could go wrong and then… then Shiro screamed like he had never heard him do so before. Concern filled him, followed moments later with sinking horror and bile at the back of his throat as he caught the purple in his eyes.  
  
Keith really hated the colour purple.  
  
——  
  
Keith followed the ensuing events like an animal headed to the slaughter-block. He could smell the death in the air, he could already anticipate the blow landing and yet the universe left no room for him to break free from the stinking, blood-soaked path which it laid out ahead of his feet.  
He didn’t know what he was, the hunter or the hunted, but he still held the hope that this time it would be different and they would both get out alive.  
  
He’d expected to be afraid.  
  
There was no fear to be found as he made his way to the scene he had seen behind his eyelids for move than two years now.  
  
Bit by bit, the missing pieces slid into place.  
A dark facility. Haggar’s darker magic. A hundred bodies who were physically Shiro and yet who between them had not an atom of his soul to be found.  
  
Whatever happened, the Shiro he loved was gone. Keith made peace with that in an instant.  
  
Then…  
The man was behind him. He felt his breath against the back of his neck, hot and oh how he wished that this was a different situation. Those two years had made him build a different scenario wherein he could fall back, where lips would touch his skin with steadiness like the last solid thing in a swirling world of passion and would promise so very much more.

 

 

Slowly, he turned to face him, ready as he would ever be.   


Shiro threw himself at him with a left-handed hook. Keith expected it. He sidestepped and raised his blade to catch that energy weapon as it came for his throat. The… beast that Shiro was snarled, foot slamming into his knee just as Keith shifted his weight. It hurt, but he was able to step back away from him. Deja vu swam before his eyes.  
Again they clashed then, weapon against weapon. The other had the upper hand in terms of strength, but he was always going to be more nimble, lean and flexible against the brute force that was being thrown at him. His mother had taught him well.  
  
The blades slid apart and they circled for a second before parrying once more. This time Shiro leant in, left hand slamming up into his chin and stunning him as his helmet flew off, over the railing and landed on a platform below. Keith reeled and gritted his teeth before he let his body twist over that railing and down in heavy drop onto the platform below. Would she have taught him so well if she had known that he was preparing for his death?  
  
The onslaught followed him and he threw himself sideways as Shiro landed heavily, blade down in the spot he had been a millisecond before. Finding his feet under him, he whirled his blade at the other, catching him across the face and reopening the slice that crossed his nose. Perhaps a similar engagement that was how he had ended up with that mark in the first place.  
Shiro hissed, cold and deadly as the snakes Keith had once shared his desert with. Then, he pounced again and they clashed over and over. Each move was familiar not just from the flashes he had seen.  
  
He threw himself away from him with a desperation raising his heartbeat. No. No. It just wasn’t _fair_. Shiro followed after him, movements even faster and more deadly as blood ran down his face, pooling in the corners of his mouth and dripping further with every ragged pant he gave. He caught Keith in the side, a glancing blow off his ribs that left a deep, angry purple mark. Pain lancing through him, he threw himself off that walkway. His mother had known she was preparing him for his death.  
  
Shiro barrelled into him in midair, sending them spinning together into the furthest platform down. It could almost have been a lovers embrace, if not for the sharp, panicking whine of the weapon coming out of Shiro’s arm.  
They hit the metal hard, breaking apart at as they were bounced their separate ways like rag-dolls. Keith cried out for the very first time, cataloguing the injuries that he knew he had sustained from that fall. They were nothing compared to the pain in his heart anyways. As his head rolled back with the yell, his eyes caught the flash of his knife buried in the surface of the flooring just out of reach.  
  
He gritted his teeth and inched towards it, bones protesting even as the most primal and instinctual part of him howled with sick pleasure at the pain. The Galra him knew that they were not getting out of this alive and planned on going down in a blaze of guts and glory.  
  
His hand closed around the knife and he yanked back with every ounce of strength he had. Above him, pure energy sang and Keith fell back just in time to block the blade, millimetres from his face. “Shiro… You’re my brother.” He panted, strength starting to abandon him with a surge of panic even as the weight bearing down on him grew impossibly oppressive. He didn’t need his eyes open to know that he still hated the colour purple more than anything else. “I love you.”  
  
The pressure lifted away and, unable to sustain any longer, his guard dropped to his chest. “Just… Let go, Keith.” The voice was gravelly, snarling and any hope he had of getting them both back alive faded. Shiro really was gone. “You don’t have to fight anymore.”  
  
A sob tore free from his throat and he let his head loll back. He was done. He couldn’t save him.  
  
Sharp, relieving in its cold-heat as it burnt through his nerves, the weapon came down through the breastplate of his armour, through his skin, through the breastbone below and down until the tip of it lodged in the metal below his body.  
He was in too much pain to hurt.  
  
There was no way that they could both escape but… Keith’s eyes slipped open, meeting Shiro’s with quiet acceptance. Neither one should get out alive.  
  
Instinct alone activated the knife in his hand and there was a strangled gurgle as it pierced straight through his love, through his soulmate. Those purple, haunted eyes went wide and then faded to black.  
  
“Keith…” He whispered and it was the loudest sound that had ever been in the universe, eclipsing supernovas, eclipsing the big bang because it was _Shiro’s_ voice. “I love you too.”  
  
It did not matter. It fell on deaf ears, lips moving in the view of glassy eyes and after the final syllable, Shiro slumped forwards into his soulmate. Around them, the facility exploded in fire and somewhere behind it, a lion roared for all that he had lost.  
  
Together they tumbled, forever glued to one another in, at last, a lovers final embrace.


End file.
